Missing moment from TCOT Red Riding Boots
by razraz
Summary: Perry and Della disagree about the treatment of a witness...


**Missing Moment from TCOT Red Riding boots**

This is the case where a ranch hand is accused of murdering the fiance of his boss. The owner of the ranch, Mr Farwell, doesn't want to get involved in getting Joe Dixon off. His ex-wife, Jill, begs him to help, even though she doesn't know Joe and she turns to Perry Mason to defend the ranch hand. She had previously asked Perry to intervene with her ex-husband to stall his pending wedding because of the psychological state of their daughter, Anne. Anne hated Rita the fiance and was collapsing emotional as the wedding approached. As the case unroles, more secrets are being revealed, all the witnesses appear to be hiding something. This scene comes after Perry has tried to question Anne about what happened and what she knows, she refuses to give him any answers. My missing moment flows on after this scene. The Scene is in italics. Normal text is my descriptions (And obviously - Not my characters, I don't own them, just borrowing them)

Mr Farwell comes into Della's office from Perry's where he had been waiting. Perry had come out into Della's office to take a call from Paul.

_"Mason, I really must go now, but you understand don't you if you want to talk to Anne again, you really must get my permission first, not the schools_" Farwell tells Mason.

"_I have a feeling next time I talk to Anne, Mr Farwell will be in court_,"

"_What do you mean by that?_" Farwell demands affronted.

"_I intend to subpoena your daughter as a witness_!" Mason tells him

"_But! You can't do that, a young girl in court, I won't let you!_"Farwell protests.

"Y_ou should also be warned that if the District Attorney brings her into court I intend to cross examiner her. I'm trying to find the truth Mr Farwell.._."

"_Mr..._"Farwell starts to protest

Perry interrupts and states firmly"_No matter who gets hurt_,", almost angrily. Della gives him a look of consternation.

Mr Farwell slumps his shoulders and strides out of the office, leaving Perry half sitting on Della's desk, his hands pressed on top of each other, pressing into his knee. Della is fidgeting with some paper, opening and closing it, casting anxious glances at him.

"_It will be too bad if a girl in her state of mind has to be brought into court..._" Della says softly.

"_Della... don't you think I realise that?_" he asks in low tones, but anger fills his voice as he then demands " _Under the circumstances what would you have me do?_" He glares at her but she is not looking at him. He pushes himself off the desk goes into his office forcefully closing the door.

**... missing moment takes it from here**

Della winced. Long ago she had promised him that she would trust him. He had just virtually accused her of having no faith in him. It wasn't that, she did have faith in him. She had complete faith that he would do what he had to, to stop an innocent man going to the gas chamber. She knew his determination. Had experienced it first hand. But this was different, "...whoever might get hurt."

She couldn't have left unsaid what he did not want voiced. That in this case the 'whoever' was a sick, young girl. But she felt low that he felt she didn't trust him.

His eyes had been angry when he had raised his voice at her, she could handle that. But he walked away and slammed the door. All her insecurities and doubts about them having a relationship outside the office, while maintaining a professional one, came flooding through her. She shook those thoughts off, she didn't have time to dwell on the personal. She suspected he was as angry at himself, as much as he was at her. He would put that young girl on the stand, put her on the stand and let her collapse to get to the truth. She was the weakest link in the chain of liars they were dealing with.

Her buzzer went off, she jumped, but her tone was calm when she responded, "Yes Perry?"

"I'm going out, you can go home," he said, his tone cold and frustrated.

"Are you sure?" even with him being angry, angry at her, usually they could still talk, still work on the case.

"Go home Della," was his tired response. She, momentarily, pressed her face into her hands, before sighing and continuing with her notes.

Della couldn't go home, she knew they were missing some huge parts of the puzzle. But knowing he wouldn't even talk to her about it. Not even talk at her, which could usually free his mind of the encumbrances. She sat at her desk drawing up her relationship diagram. With it the snippets of conversations she could remember. She went back through the files read them all then tidied them up, leaving them where he could find them if he wandered in in the middle of the night. Her notes and drawings she slipped into her brief case to take home.

Finally with a soft sigh she locked up the office, glancing at the wall clock on the way out, she was surprised it was so late, nearly ten o'clock. Her stomach hadn't even rumbled, she wasn't hungry. Della just felt empty. She felt they had stepped onto a road that had no by-passes and no turn off's and a steep drop off at the end.

...MM...

Della yawned when she slipped her coat into her cloak closet by the door having to push coats aside to make room. Too tired to think about her overstuffed closet. As she headed to her bedroom, she double glanced the tumbler sitting on her coffee table, she didn't remember leaving it there, but it wouldn't be the first time. She kicked her shoes off and picked them up, slipping her jacket off. In the low light she could see a plate and some bread sitting on the benchtop. Her mind was too tired, she felt too sad that he had sent her away, she could feel her heart starting to break as, freed from work, the full import of their mostly unspoken fracas assailed her. She used her elbow to turn on the light in her bedroom, and gasped dropping her shoes with a loud clatter on the floor. She almost burst out crying on the spot, but was afraid that because she had wished so hard for him to come to her that she was imagining this right now.

Sprawled face down on her bed, clutching her pillow and face resting on her nightgown was the large, long form of her boss. He grunted, coming awake at the noise and the light.

"Chief. What are you doing here?" she asked not trying to hide her surprise. He heart racing at a thousand beats a minute.

He rolled so he was half on his side still holding her pillow to him.

"I was rough with my secretary, I got angry and needed to escape home."

'Did you loose your key?" she asked, he had not answered her question as to why he was in her apartment.

"You do know, don't you baby, that my home is where you are, " he said quietly, almost shyly.

"You do know that I was in the office when you left," she retorted. Her tone was soft but she did not try to hide the hurt, not able to maintain the role of secretary, not here in her inner sanctuary.

"Baby, I wouldn't want you if you were afraid to challenge me," he replied. Her distant demeanor had not made him any less comfortable lolling on her her bed. Her relief that he was here battling with the knowledge that one day they would end up tearing each other apart. He had shut her out.

"I don't know if I was talking as your secretary or your lover," she replied. Hating herself for blushing at saying that word outloud. Hoping to maintain some sort of dignity, her expression had that stubborn defiance he loved. He had invaded her privacy after all.

"Why should there be a difference?" he asked, his voice gentle, softening the challenge in that question. She was looking to the foot of the bed, her chin tucked in to her neck, her eyes closing momentarily. She sighed before she started speaking.

"As your secretary I promised to trust you, to have faith in you, that you would never let a client to the wolves. I promised, I promised you, I promised myself," she started. She had hung up her jacket and was leaning back against the door jamb, her arms crossed, usually a pose of consideration for her. He knew at this particular moment it was a defensive pose. Her eyes didn't seek his out, as had happened early that day when she had challenged him, she would not met his gaze. Earlier it had been because she hadn't wanted to see the anger in his. Now it was because she didn't want him to read the truth in hers. "As your secretary I wouldn't have questioned you, wouldn't have pointed out what you already knew, that that young girl is vulnerable, and possible not able to withstand the rigours of a cross examination by you when you are seeking the truth."

"So it was my lover who challenged me today?" his eyes dark and intent, burning into hers when she chanced a glance. She was still not able to hold his eyes.

"I think so," she said miserably, "I don't have any other options for you, I had no right to imply that you shouldn't protect your client to the utmost. I know you say it often enough but to understand the implications of "No matter who gets hurt," it scared me, it scared me knowing who would fall in front of you to save his life. But I had no right to say that without giving you some alternative."

He closed his eyes, sad eyes, the weight of what he was going to do the following day eating him. She wanted to run to him, hide in his arms, comfort him, draw comfort from him. But she was so scared, knowing that she had not been able to isolate the aspects of their relationships, if she couldn't do that, she wouldn't survive.

"I need you in my arms," he pleaded, his eyes still closed, as if unable to watch her if she chose to reject him, even if it only meant not moving from her current position.

As if she could resist him, that had got her into this mess in the first place. She crawled onto the bed and into his arms turning so that her back pressed to his chest.

He didn't want to talk about her hesitation, her uncertainty or her hurt. He suspected he knew what she was thinking, that they were at the top of a slippery slope and the only way was down. He breathed in the smell of her, holding her to him. He needed her, he knew that deep down she thought it a temporary convenience on his behalf, that that was all it was. He knew differently, just didn't know how to express it. Him, who made his living out of words, he could not say what lay deep within his heart and soul. So instead he held her refusing to let her go, refusing to relinquish her. What she didn't know, what he had never spoken of. Had never experienced these feelings before. Didn't know it could exist, that he would need someone to need him so desperately. The thought that she could live with out him would clutch at his heart and make him unable to move, to think. He had experienced it that afternoon, what if her warning, her concern that he would stop at nothing, what if that flowed into a removal of her love, of her need. He realised he had stopped breathing.

"I should have talked to you about it Della, I should have told you that I felt sick knowing that I would do what I will do. I have not come up with anything else, and I cut you off when we should have talked about it, looked at everything again, all the evidence. I know they are lieing to me, I don't know why. Your job is to help me figure that out, I didn't let you do that. I made you feel bad. If you couldn't ask me things like that I don't think there would be any future for us. I was wallowing in self pity, as if I am in this on my own. As if my decision don't carry you and Paul along with them. I had no right to block you out. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I haven't got another plan and I am sorry that I implied you had no right to question me. You have every right, you have earned every right, it doesn't matter if you think there is a distinction between you as my secretary and you as my lover. When it is a question of what's right, there is no distinction. Baby..." his tone had dropped to a whisper,"...I'm so sorry."

Della didn't want to turn or to speak, didn't want him to know she was crying, although he probably knew. They had talked about this sort of intimacy before, how women liked to have the air cleared before making love, but men making love was part of getting the air cleared. She knew he was sorry, that for now he would have held her, just held her, content not to be exiled from her presence. They both knew there were other issues that had not been voiced.

She wasn't sure that they hadn't made the biggest mistake in the world when they had weakened and given into the sinful lust that at times overwhelmed them both. She knew that right now she needed to feel him, feel his body. To know that he hadn't rejected her, had been angry at himself. All she wanted to do was to relieve his pain, and cover him with love, give him strength to do what he had no choice to do, but let him do it knowing that whatever, however, she would not turn away from him because he put a client first. Goodness knows she had enough other reasons to end this dangerous liaison that was between them, that brought out fire and possessiveness in them both. She struggled to get out of his arms and he let her go, feeling hopelessness creep into his soul. But she didn't get off the bed, she knelt so she could look down at him. She placed her hands on his chest, he was so big, he was so warm, he smelt so good. She examined his face. She was well aware she was not like other women, she didn't need all to be clear between them to willingly accept his amorous advances. On rare occasions she demanded his attentions, not with a teasing kiss, or a sultry glance but with something as forward as unbuttoning his trousers or moving her lips down his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt. He couldn't move, afraid he would scare her off. Slowly her fingers started undoing the buttons of her shirt, she shrugged it off, he watched, his eyes glued to her figure, didn't matter how many times he saw her naked, each time was like the first. His heart rate quickened. She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt, instead of letting it drop, she pulled the whole skirt off over her head, it wasn't a pencil skirt, even with her slim frame she wouldn't have carried that off. He was grinning now. She had white underwear on, a lacey white bra, lacey panties, a garter belt, and grey stockings. She leaned on his chest and straddled him. She undid the buttons on his shirt, his hands of their own volition crept onto her thighs, smoothing over her stockings and ending with his thumbs stroking the bare skin. She reached behind her back and released her bra, he groaned as one hand held him down. She shuffled down his body and undid his belt and trousers, she pulled them down only enough to release him, limiting his movement as the garment was still around his thighs.

"Perry?" she purred.

"Baby?" he responded, his hips thrusting of their own accord.

"I need you," she told him, gasped at his response. It was what he most needed to hear, he knew she loved him, he knew she would always love him, but oh God to hear she needed him, it was like a plug had been released allowing the bath of fear to drain. He half rose so that his mouth could meet her breasts having ravished those he sought her mouth. She tasted delicious, she had no place to taste so delicious after a full day working for him, not eating, drinking coffee all day. He couldn't stop the groans that escaped him. He felt her hands working on him, guiding him. He wanted to roll her over, be on top, take her, but she was insistent, and forced him to stay underneath her, but he couldn't, wouldn't release her mouth, nor could his hands stop caressing her breast and her buttocks. She was groaning his name, in response to his movements, taking pleasure from him, forcing him to please her. It was exquisite, the demands she was making of him, the need she had for him. All he wanted to do was please her, pleasure her, make her need for him so great she could never let him go, never leave him. He could still feel her holding back from him, barriers that he would not have stand. He knew her too well though, his fingers, his mouth, they showed her no mercy. He felt her shift up several gears, he knew she was loosing control, knew there was no going back for her, at that point he gave himself over to letting them drain each other. The restriction of his trousers and the pressure of her hands on his chest were delicious constraints, her felt her shudder, her body clench and followed her immediately over the edge into bliss.

When he came aware of his body again, they were curled back up in spoon position, sometime, somehow his trousers had been removed completely. Gently he kissed her shoulder, he knew he had to get dressed and go, it was one of the rules, no staying over. He held her tighter instead and was rewarded with her mumbling his name. The cloak ticked over two am. He kissed her head, and as quietly as possible went about retrieving his clothes, he turned back to her and pulled the blanket up around her. Della's naked body was one of his favorite sights in the whole world.

He went out into the living room, there was her briefcase and notepad, he poured himself a small finger of scotch and lay down on her couch, the lights still on from earlier. She had been sketching, she had drawn different possibilities of what had happened placing each one in turn as the killer. It slowly dawned on him why the were all lying. It explained why Jill had engaged him to defend Joe Dixon, she had no reason to do that. He heard a noise and looked up to see Della tying a thin satin robe around herself. "Don't do that on my account," he said with a cheeky grin, she suppressed a smile but couldn't keep the smile out of her eye. He patted the empty spot next to him, she hesitated but then obliged curling next to him.

"You're worried about us aren't you?" he asked her.

She couldn't do anymore than give a slight nod, the middle of a case was not the time to analysis their relationship.

"What about us?" he probed.

"Me, I like being your secretary, I don't want to have to get a new job." She tucked her head under his chin, he smelt so good. Her fingers stroked his shirt.

"All this because I raised my voice at you?" he asked. He knew she was not afraid of his raised voice, not when he bellowed at her, not when he got angry, not even when he got angry at her. She did not take it personally. But this was about faith in each other.

"Nooo, I don't think you should put her on the stand, she's a young girl, she has her whole life ahead of her..."

"And Joe Dixon has lived his, is that it..."

"I know its not fair, but..."

"Della you know that whatever troubles that young girl is only going to get worse if she doesn't face it."

"I know... and I don't have any other options for you," her voice was miserable.

"I won't do it if you don't want me to," he said, his voice soft,"If you really think its the wrong thing to do." She drew back from him, so she could see his face.

"Perry you can't do that, not if you think its the only way," she couldn't believe that he would do that, let her second guess him, back down. It shocked her to her core.

"Will you trust me then?" he begged her. She climbed into his lap so that she was facing him. She took his face into her hands so she could look directly into his eyes.

"Oh Perry,I do, I do, I trust you to be braver, stronger and ruthless. But mostly to force the truth out. Its the truth we are after isn't it, the truth which will prove Joe innocent."

"Yes," he said softly.

"I believe in you," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

"You don't know how much I need that to be true."

"Darling it is true," her fingers traced his lips, her eyes held his.

"You will be with me tomorrow then?"

"I will be with you," she promised.

"Kiss me," he demanded. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him gently, a promise sealed in the meeting of their lips. His eyes were still closed when she pulled back from him as if savouring the promise. He loved the feel of her eyes on him.

"Can I pick you up in the morning?" he asked.

"If you can be here at seven thirty," she replied. He checked the clock on her wall, that was only in a few hours.

"I'll be back," their lips met again, and hugging her to him, he lifted her up as he stood. He carried her back through to her room and lay her on the bed, unhooking her legs with ease.

"If you keep that up young lady I'll still be here at 7.30," he half warned at the feel of her lips on his neck.

She let him go, "Good night Chief!" she whispered.

"Night, Baby," he kissed her forehead and let her go. Warm from his loving, Della was asleep before he had let himself out of her apartment. Perry thought momentarily about heading back to the office, but decided to head back to his apartment. He had Della's sketches and her notes. He had her by his side, figuratively if no longer literally. He felt a plan formulating as to how he would tackle the next day. He knew he should feel bad about what he was going to do, but his whole being felt lighter, he felt stronger and more ready to face the trauma's of the pending day in court.

**The End**


End file.
